Meanwhile, the holidays had passed by with Julian very differently, but very happily. Without tiring himself, or harassing his attention by study, he made a rule of devoting to work some portion, at least, of every day. Long strolls with his mother and sister in the bright summer evenings, bathes and boating excursions with Cyril and Frank, and happy, lonely rambles on the beach, kept him in health and spirits, and he looked forward with eager ambition to the arena which he was so soon to enter. "The Harton boys have gone back by this time, haven't they?" asked Violet, as she sat with her mother and brother on the lawn one afternoon. "Don't you wish you were there again with them, Julian?" "No," said Julian, "I wouldn't exchange Saint Werner's man even for Harton boy." "How soon shall you have to go up to Saint Werner's?" said Mrs Home. "On October 15th; in about a fortnight's time. I mean to go up a day or two beforehand to get settled. You and Violet must come with me, mother." "But is that usual? Won't you get laughed at as though you were coming up under female escort?" asked Violet. "Pooh! you don't suppose I care for that," said Julian, "even supposing it were likely to be true; besides--" He said no more, but his proud look at his sister's face seemed to imply that he expected rather to be envied than laughed at. Accordingly, they went up together, and, as the train drew nearer and nearer to Camford, all three grew silent and thoughtful. They were rightly conscious that on the years to be spent in college life depended no small part of Julian's future happiness and prosperity. Three years at least would be spent there; years wealthy with all blessing, or prolific of evil and regret. It was night when they arrived, and in the dimly-lighted streets there was not enough visible to gratify Julian's eager curiosity. The omnibus was crowded with undergraduates, who were chiefly freshmen, but apparently anxious to seem very much at home. At the station, the piles of luggage seemed interminable, and Mrs Home and Violet were not sorry to escape from the unusual confusion to the quiet of their hotel. Next morning, directly after an impatient breakfast, Julian started to call on his tutor. "Which is the way to Saint Werner's College?" he asked of the waiter. "Straight along, sir," was the reply, and off he started down King's Parade. In his hurry to make the first acquaintance with his new college, Julian hardly stopped to admire the smooth green quadrangle and lofty turrets of King Henry's College, or Saint Mary's, or the Senate House and Library, but strode on to the gate of Saint Werner's. Entering, he gazed eagerly at the famous great court, with its chapel, hall, fountain, and Master's lodge; and then made his way through the cloisters of Warwick's Court to his tutor's rooms.